The description of the house had been too accurately given for its features to be mistaken; plain but elegant, its exterior bespoke the pure taste of its possessors.

There were several steps leading up to the entrance door, which, retreating into a kind of recess, occupied the middle of the building, and opened into a hall with parlours on each side.

William ascended the steps and rung the bell.  More than one summons was necessary, and while he waited for somebody to come he had time to look round; and he did gaze into one of the basement rooms, in which were several children.  It seemed to be used partly for school purposes, and partly for play; it was not certainly the regular study hours, for there was too much inattention, although a governess was present and giving directions.  A girl of twelve years old was practising a music lesson; and a younger one, seated at a table, was writing—­all three of the inmates too much occupied to observe the young intruder, who was now so near the window that he could hear part of what was said.

“You play too fast, Clara,” said the teacher; “if you do not count your time, you will never excel in music.”

“Agnes, do not sit so crooked at your writing; it is ruinous to your health.  Be careful to spell every word properly; for those who do not learn to spell well while they are young, can never acquire a correct knowledge of it.”

Our little shoemaker stood looking through the window with a pleasure nearly allied to that which had once enchained him before the picture-shops.  What was it that so fettered his attention that he did not remark the presence of the servant, who had at last answered the summons of the door-bell?  Was it the quiet and beautiful specimen of home instruction he was witnessing?  Was it the neat and tasteful furnishing of the apartment,—­the handsome but now unoccupied writing-desk, which was provided with every thing necessary, from a pen-knife down to a pen-wiper?  Or did something in the shape of an old-fashioned sofa in the corner, on which sat three large dolls, claim the observation which was so intense as to amount to absolute rudeness?  Yes, it was one of the leathern ladies that awakened such an extraordinary interest in the boy; for on its feet were the red morocco boots, bound and tied with light blue ribbon—­very untasteful was the contrast—­which he had made out of gratitude for the kindness shown him on the day in which he dropped the shoes in the gutter.

“What are you staring in there for, boy?” said a broad-faced Irish girl, giving him a pull.  “Sure don’t you know it’s not civil to do the likes of that? tell us what it is ye want, and then take yourself off.”

William stated his errand, and the ruddy damsel, satisfied that he meant no harm, said she “did not know whether ould Mistress Stewart was in the place, but she would go and see.”

Thus left, there was time to renew his observations; and just then the door of the basement room opened, and a delicate but bright-looking boy of fourteen, with a gun in his hand and a game-bag over his shoulder, entered.  “O Clara! such a pleasant day Harry Clinton and I have had!  I have shot a round dozen of birds, and he has more!  But tell me, is little Frank any better?”